


Lodi

by mannybothans



Series: Someday Never Comes [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cemetery, Cincinnati, Flashback, Monsters, Ohio, Other, Season 1, Seduction, Spring Grove, Supernatural Season 1 Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannybothans/pseuds/mannybothans
Summary: It's Fall of 2005 and Christa Edelwood finds herself in Cincinnati hunting a ghoul. She calls John Winchester for back-up but is sent his sons, instead. It's the first case the three of them have worked together in years. It's a race against time to find the ghoul before one of them gets hurt.





	1. Chapter 1

Christa hopped off the bus and hefted her bag over her shoulder. She was in the middle of downtown Cincinnati just on the Ohio side of the river. 24 hours ago, she’d been lounging in a bar in New Orleans when her cell phone rang and she took a case of missing bodies from the Spring Grove Cemetery. Everything about the case screamed ghouls and she knew she’d need back-up but she wanted to get settled in a motel and get some actual sleep before calling in back-up.

As soon as she’d gotten a good six hours, she showered and changed her clothes and then put out a message for back-up. She didn’t know how many ghouls she’d be dealing with and two hunters were always, always better than one when dealing with unknowns. Her mother had told her that repeatedly. It was late afternoon and she needed to head out before sun-down to scope out the grounds and do preliminary investigating.

* * *

 

“If this is an emergency, you can reach my son Dean at…”

“Shit,” Christa muttered. She listened to John’s voice give out Dean’s number and waited for the beep. “John, it’s Christa. Christa Edelwood. I’m in Cincinnati tracking a ghoul, I think. Could use some back-up if you can make it.” She flipped her phone shut and paced the room. She might just have to call Dean Winchester.  _Like Hell,_ she thought.  _I'd rather eat batteries._

* * *

 

“Dean, come on. We’ve already lost track of Dad’s trail. We need to get back to it. Let someone else take the case in Cincinnati.”

“Dad sent us these coordinates, Sam. He wants us to go there, so we’re going. We’ll find Dad, I promise.”

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“Nope. Just that we’re backing someone else up.”

Sam sighed and finally nodded. “Who is it?”

Dean shrugged and merged onto the highway. “He didn’t say.”

* * *

 

“Sorry, ma’am, but this area is restricted.”

Christa lifted her sunglasses and flashed a dazzling smile along with her Fish & Wildlife badge. “I was called in because of a report of coyotes. As you know, we specialize in relocating wild animals to less populated areas for the safety of both them and people.”

“Oh, I, sorry.” The police office grinned sheepishly. He was pretty young – and cute – but Christa was here to do a job. She’d break a heart later if time allowed.

“Quite alright, Officer…”

“Morton.”

“Morton,” she smiled again as he lifted the tape for her. “Thank you. I’ll only be a few minutes. I need to see the areas where the bodies were dug out so I can confirm animal activity.”

“Yes ma’am, right this way,” Officer Morton said and lead her deeper into the cemetery.

Christa noticed there were a lot of places something could hide, even in daylight. She recalled a map of the cemetery and arboretum in her mind so she could find her way out in the dark of night. Officer Morton stopped at the edge of a grave that had been excavated. The coffin had been pulled up and there was a hole in the head of it. There was no body. “Huh,” she commented as she squatted down to look closer at the hole. _Definitely ghouls,_ she said to herself. Out loud, she said, “Looks like coyotes, alright. Hungry, if they’re going after cadavers what with the fact they usually go for strays or rabbits. Interesting. The others?”

Officer Morton gestured to several other grave sites that had been dug up.

“And when did you notice these sites were missing bodies?”

“Oh, just a few days ago. One of the night-shift security guards called in and reported he’d heard strange noises coming from this area. He called for back-up and when they arrived, the guard was nowhere to be seen. We figured he fled but his wife said he never came home. A few days later, his body was found in a freshly re-dug grave on top of an empty coffin.”

Christa nodded and jotted the names down of those on the headstones of missing bodies. The ghoul could be any one of these people – and they were all buried within the past year.

“Is it possible we might be dealing with grave robbers?”

“What? I, I don’t know.” Officer Morton scratched his head. “I don’t think that even occurred to Sergeant. Huh.”

“Thank you, Officer. Here’s my cell number,” she wrote it down and tore it off her small notepad, handing it to the blushing young man with a smile, “In case you need anything else or just need to get in touch.”

“Yes, yes ma’am,” he stuttered. They walked back to the edge of the restricted area and Christa turned.

“Maybe you could give a lady a ride back to her motel?”

“Uh, well, I’m really not supposed to,” he began.

Christa tilted her head and smiled again. “Purely professional, Officer Morton. I don’t have a car and it would be much faster if I had a lift.”

“Oh. Well. I don’t see the harm in that, then,” he said and walked her to his car. The drive back to her motel was short and quiet. Christa grinned inwardly at how flushed the police officer was.

He dropped her off and she waved bye and blew Officer Morton a kiss. He nervously waved back and pulled out of the parking lot before she even put the key in the lock.

As she locked the door behind her, her phone started ringing. It was a California area code but not a number she recognized.

“Agent Cobain speaking,” she stated calmly.

“Chris?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Sam. Sam Winchester.”

Christa could hear his smile over the phone and she grinned as she sat down and took off her shoes. “Sam! Hey! How’s college?”

“Oh, um, I kind of, well, I… it’s a long story.”

Christa frowned. “Need to talk?”

“No, I,” he sighed heavily and Christa heard his voice hitch a little. “Jess is dead, Chris.”

“What? Oh my god, Sam! I’m so sorry! When did she…?”

“A little while ago. I uh, I left Stanford and I’m on the road with Dean.” There was a long pause before Sam cleared his throat. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“No, Sam, don’t be. It’s… wow. I’m so sorry. So, wait, you’re hunting again?”

“Yeah, I need to find out what killed Jess, Chris. It was… it was the same thing that killed Mom. Dean and I are looking for Dad and we think he’s close to whatever it was.”

Christa sat in silence, the heaviness of the news sitting on her heart. She swallowed and immediately wished she’d brought some liquor with her. “Jesus, Sam.”

“Yeah. Um, anyway,” he forced another smile onto his face, “It’s great to hear your voice again.”

“You, too, Sam. I missed you. What’s it like, now, being on the road again? Surprised you haven’t killed Dean, yet.”

He chuckled, “It’s not so bad, actually.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, where are you, anyway? Maybe we can swing by and meet up somewhere when we get done with this case we’re headed to.”

Christa bit her lip. She had a bad feeling about this. “Uh, where are you – and Dean – currently headed, again? Is it Cincinnati?”

 “Yeah, how did you…?” Sam paused and she closed her eyes. She could just see Sam’s eyes dart over to his brother in the driver’s seat. “Oh. Okay. Well, uh, we’ll uh, we’ll meet up soon, yeah?”

“He doesn’t know does he?”

“Nope.”

Christa groaned and flopped back onto her bed. “Can you ditch the turd, maybe?”

“Not really,” Sam admitted. “But I swear we’ll make it quick, okay?”

“Okay, Sam. Miss you, see you soon.”

“See you, Chris.”

Christa dropped her Blackberry onto the bed next to her and groaned. It was a lot to process – Jess was dead, John was missing, her mom had died almost exactly five years ago, and now Dean Winchester was about to waltz back into her life. _Fuck_.

It was midnight when Christa heard the familiar sound of the Impala’s engine in the motel lot. She had texted Sam her lodgings after they hung up. Groggily, she opened the door for the Winchesters and then immediately lay back down and went to sleep. Dean claimed the other bed as his own and Sam climbed into Christa’s bed with her, making sure to keep a bit of space between them. Dean started snoring and Sam, awake and restless, watched Christa sleep until he, too, dozed.

* * *

 

Something soft hit her face and Christa slowly came to. It hit her again and she woke up instantly, her adrenaline pumping, and reached out to grab the offending object. It was a pillow. Her blue eyes landed on green eyes that were a _little_ too close for comfort. Sam had hazel eyes. And Sam shared her bed last night, not Dean.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Dean smirked and sat up next to her.

“Why are you in my bed?” Christa yelled and whacked him with the pillow she’d grabbed.

Dean raised an arm to block her hits and hurried off the bed, laughing. “Just figured I’d give you something nice to wake up to,” he bragged as Christa sent pillows hurling at him.

“I’d rather wake up to a dead rat!” Christa fired back.

Dean laughed hard as another pillow went sailing over his head. “I can make that happen, you know!”

Christa groaned in disgust and flipped him her middle finger.

“If you’re lucky,” Dean shrugged.

“God, I hate you, Winchester,” Christa muttered as she threw the blankets back and swung her feet out of bed. “I get next shower,” she claimed.

Dean’s eyebrows raised when she stood up, dressed only in very small black underwear and a tank top. He whistled in appreciation. “You don’t need to give me a show, darlin’. Though I do appreciate it.”

Christa laughed spitefully. “You fucking wish, Winchester! If you think this is a show, I have to wonder how many women you’ve actually slept with.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed at her insult to his ego. “Hey, I’ve slept with plenty of women! Women have a really hard time refusing,” he gestured at himself, “This!”

Christa turned around with a skirt suit in her hands. “Then how come it’s so damn easy for me to resist,” she gestured at him, “That?”

Dean scowled and then a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Maybe you’re just denying what you really want,” he said, eyeing her again. “I can show you what you’re missing, sweetheart.”

Christa laughed again. The shower turned off and she walked over to the bathroom door. “I ain’t missing nothing, Winchester. You had your chance, remember? If I recall correctly – didn’t impress me too much.” She winked at him as the door opened and Sam stepped out in a tee shirt and jeans, toweling his hair. His eyes went from Christa to Dean as he felt how thick the tension was in the room between them. Christa leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek while her eyes shot daggers at Dean.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Sam said as Christa slipped by him into the bathroom.

Dean shook his head and let out a rueful chuckle. “I really hate you for bringing us here, Sammy. You owe me one for having to put up with that witch.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted as he sat down to pull on his socks. “Um, _you_ brought us here, Dean.”

“Whatever,” Dean shouted. “I’m going to get coffee before she can give me a headache.” He slammed the door behind him and Sam just shook his head and sighed.

Christa took her time in the shower, using the last of the hot water for their room. She figured with Sam’s laptop, it wouldn’t take long to put faces to the bodies that the ghoul had dug up and started feeding on. There was no need to interview anybody – since all the victims were already dead. It was just a matter of finding the damn thing and killing it. Problem was, it could be anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean dropped off Sam and Christa in the cemetery while he went to the nearby morgue to get a look at the security man’s body that had been found in a freshly dug grave.

Once again, Christa stepped under the police tape and Sam followed her. Officer Morton was nowhere to be found as she lead Sam to the sites of the open graves.

“Looks like a ghoul, alright,” Sam muttered as he and Christa knelt by an excavated grave. “Wonder how many bodies they’ve fed off that we don’t know about.” He glanced to his partner and she had a worried look that creased her brow. They stood up and Sam took his jacket off. “Alright, keep an eye out. I’m going to see if there are tunnels.”

Christa took his jacket and watched him lower himself into the ground before she pulled a pad and pen out. She scribbled a few meaningless notes before her gaze swept their surroundings. A tense moment went by and Sam finally called out that there were, in fact, tunnels. Christa swore under her breath and then stepped back as he hauled himself out of the grave. He dusted himself off and put his jacket back on to hide the dirt smears down the front of his white shirt.

“Agent Cobain?”

Christa whirled around to see Officer Morton approaching her while eyeing Sam. She gave him her patented, disarming smile. “Hello, Officer! I didn’t see you when we arrived. This is my colleague, Agent Grohl.” Sam nodded his head in the officer’s direction, smiling just enough to show off his dimples. “We came back to inspect the open graves. Did you talk to your Sergeant, yet?”

“Oh, oh yes. Um, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to escort you off the scene. New, um, new evidence has come to light and we no longer need the assistance of Fish & Wildlife.” Officer Morton looked terribly abashed and intimidated as he stuttered through his sentences. Christa and Sam exchanged a quick glance.

Sam stepped forward, flashing an FBI badge. “Actually, I’m with the FBI. Agent Cobain called me yesterday and went over her findings. I was called in to investigate potential grave robberies.”

Officer Morton’s face faltered as he processed this information. Christa smiled sweetly at him and lightly rubbed his bicep as she stepped closer to him. “Well, I guess. I didn’t know the FBI already sent someone for this.”

“When are you off work tonight, Officer? Since I’m no longer technically on duty, I’d like to have a drink with you.” Christa’s blue eyes conveyed sincerity and hopefulness and she squeezed his bicep a little more. “Oh, my, do you work out?”

Sam pursed his lips and turned to the side before the officer could see him roll his eyes.

“I, well, I,”

“Please? You’ve been so kind to me and now that our professional relationship doesn’t exist…”

Officer Morton cleared his throat and shyly looked at his shoes. “I, I get off at five. I can pick you up at six.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Christa beamed and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Do you remember where I’m staying?”

“I, yes ma’am, I do.”

“Perfect. See you at six.”

She followed Sam out of the restricted area. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Sam chuckled. “You always did play a good con, Chris,” he complimented. “I almost forgot how much of a natural you are.”

Christa’s brows raised and she shrugged, smirking lightly. “Aw, Sam, you forgot how your dad used to send me in? I always did distract the men so he and Dean could sneak by unnoticed.”

 _They aren’t all you distracted_ , Sam thought as a memory of a hot summer night in Oklahoma rumbled through his mind. It was about six years ago and Christa had joined them for a salt-and-burn. The local police were vigilant about keeping kids from sneaking into the condemned house and the Winchesters’ efforts had been thwarted numerous times before Christa was able to distract them with her flirting and curves. By the time the spirit had been taken care of Christa and one of the cops were nowhere to be seen. He didn’t see her again for another year after that. His memory of that night brought up an image of Christa in tight shorts and a fitted tank top that left enough skin exposed at the small of her back to show off the dimples on either side of her spine. Sam licked his lips and began walking again. “No, I remember. I just forgot how good you were at it,” he flashed a half-hearted smirk at her. “Come on, Dean’s done at the morgue and will be here in a few minutes.”

 

Later that afternoon, Christa was unabashedly primping in front of the mirror in the bathroom for a long time. Dean tried to usher her out so he could relieve himself but she sneered and told him to go into a cup. That blew up into an all-out shouting match that Sam finally intervened in.

“Chris, please? We both need to use the bathroom. Just for a minute. I swear you won’t be late for your date.” Sam pleaded. She gave in to his puppy dog eyes, like she always had, and stormed out of the bathroom, sticking her tongue out at Dean as she pushed by him.

“Don’t stick that out unless you plan on using it or sharing it!” Dean called as he slammed the bathroom door.

“Don’t touch any of my shit!” Christa shot back. Sure enough, a moment later there was the sound of several things hitting the floor and getting knocked over on the counter.

“Oops!” Dean shouted through the door.

“DEAN I swear to GOD that make-up is expensive!” Christa threatened before Sam could gently steer her away from the door. A moment later, Dean emerged, smirking inwardly at Christa’s glowering.

“Why do you have all that shit, anyway?” He prodded. “You go out to pick up nerds a lot?”

Christa’s glowering intensified. “Like you don’t go pick up painted whores every night you’re out with Sam.”

Dean shrugged and winked as he sat back on his bed. “You jealous I’m not trying to pick you up?”

She sneered at him and rolled her eyes. “In your fucking dreams, asshole.”

Dean let his gaze sweep over her – she was wearing low-cut jeans and a silky tank top that reminded him of lingerie. Was she seriously going out in that? He’d previously thought she was going out to be a distraction and not for anything else, but looking at her now he second-guessed himself. “And what dreams they are, sweetheart,” he finally replied after checking her out.

“Ew,” Christa scoffed. Sam finally emerged from the bathroom and Christa went back inside to finish getting ready.

“Dude, why do you even bother?” Sam asked with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Dean shrugged one shoulder and flipped through the channels. “It’s funny.”

“Is it, though?” Sam asked as he sat on his and Christa’s shared bed.

The bathroom door opened again and Christa emerged, looking at her phone with a grin. Sam’s heart leapt in his chest as he looked at her, all dolled up for her date with Officer Morton.

“W-wow. Chris. You look, y’know, wow.” Sam’s eyes went wide and he couldn’t help but smile as she spun around, dramatically striking a pose.

“Thanks, Sammy,” she gushed and sat down next to him. “At least one of you two has manners.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He had checked her out again while she wasn’t looking at him and he hated to admit it but she looked amazing. She’d curled her hair and her eye make-up was just enough to enhance her blue eyes. Her lips were glossy and Dean wondered what flavor he’d taste if he kissed her. He imagined she’d taste like cherries.

A knock at the door came and the boys froze while Christa shot up and grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you later, guys. Text me if you need anything,” she whispered and shut the lights off to hide their presence from Officer Morton as she slipped out the door.

Sam got up and turned the light on again. He sat down, looking mildly dejected at her absence.

“Let’s go find something to eat,” Dean said. “I’m starved.”

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of a local pub a little ways away from the motel. The guys strode inside and took a seat at a bar table. Sam’s eyes swept the room for potential threats and that was when he spotted Christa and Officer Morton in a booth together.

“Hey, Dean, how’d you hear about this place?” Sam asked, genuinely curious.

He was met with a non-chalant, “Dunno. Must’a heard something about it somewhere.” The older Winchester’s head turned as he watched a waitress walk by.

“Really. So the fact Christa’s here on her date has nothing to do with us being here?”

“What? Christa’s here?” Dean pretended to be mildly intrigued as he looked around. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, picking up a menu to study to get his mind off the fact Christa was cuddled up to a man that wasn’t himself. He didn’t know why he felt so jealous – she had been his closest friend several years ago and encouraged him to quit hunting and live the life he’d wanted for himself when Dean and his dad fought him every step of the way. She’d always believed in him and made him feel good about himself on his lowest days. When Dean wasn’t there to watch over him, Christa was. He’d never seen her as a big sister but just a very close family friend. When she drifted away from the Winchesters after her mother’s death, he felt her absence in his soul.

Of course, then he’d gone to college and met Jess and almost forgot Christa even existed. A pang of guilt went through him at the thought of all those years of friendship being pushed aside for his college years. Now she was in his life again and he had a chance, he thought, and blew it letting her go out with this Officer _Moron_.

“Dude. You good?” Dean waved his hand in front of Sam’s face and Sam snapped out of his thoughts as his eyes moved to the patiently-waiting waitress at their table.

“Uh, sorry, yeah. I’ll have the chicken caesar salad, please.”

Dean gave his little brother a seriously puzzled look but followed Sam’s gaze over to Christa. A thought occurred to him and his green eyes narrowed as he fixed his attention back on Sam. “Yo. You jealous?”

“What? No! No, of course not. Just making sure she’s safe, that’s all.” Sam felt his cheeks heat up, glad for the dim lighting.

“Uh huh,” Dean replied, unconvinced.

The guys finished dinner and Christa finally got up from her booth, giggling at something her companion said. She sauntered across the dining room and Sam thought she’d walk right by them without even noticing they were here but she changed direction at the last second and made a bee-line for their table.

“We’ve been made,” he muttered to Dean.

“Aren’t you two looney tunes supposed to be at the cemetery?” She hissed as her eyes flashed at them.

“Yeah, yeah,” the older Winchester sighed and slapped money down for their meals. “Enjoy your date with Mr. Moron,” he smirked as he and Sam got up and left.

Sam’s eyes caught Christa’s for a minute as if to tell her he was worried about her. She shrugged it off – she was a grown woman and could take care of herself.

* * *

Two hours later, Christa found herself tied down in a dark cellar, screaming for help around a gag.

“Sssh. I’m going to take care of your partners and then come back for another tasty snack,” the ghoul grinned as it morphed from Officer Morton into Christa. She whimpered around the gag in her mouth and struggled weakly against the restraints again.

* * *

Dean and Sam sat in the Impala near the restricted area looking for any signs of the deceased folk that had gone missing suddenly up and about. Around 8:30 they finally got out of the car and equipped themselves with the proper weapons to defeat a ghoul. They made their way into the taped-off area of the cemetery.

“I think the tunnels lead to the mausoleum right there,” Sam gestured. “All the empty graves surround this structure.”

“So that’s ghoul base-camp?”

“Might be,” Sam said and Dean raised the bolt cutters. They shoved the door open and found a tiny interior space with several plaques on the wall and no crypt, nowhere for the tunnels to lead, and no ghouls. “Shit.” They exited the tiny structure and went around it to investigate the other graves on the far end. Sam studied them carefully. “Dean, it looks like these actually point over towards that gothic memorial,” he announced after a moment. “I bet if we dug up some graves over on that end, we’d find a straight line back here.”

“Then let’s go to the… whatever you just said,” he said and started walking in the direction Sam had pointed. Sam followed him closely and they crossed the grounds on foot. They arrived at the memorial within a few minutes and Sam bent down to pick the lock. Just as he finished, they heard someone running up behind them. Dean reached for the gun tucked into his waistband and Sam raised his crowbar.

“Oh my god!” Said a familiar voice; the guys looked at each other as the figure came into view. It was Christa and she was panting. Her shoes were missing. “Thank god I found you,” she breathed and immediately went to Dean. “It’s Officer Morton. He’s the ghoul. He almost got me but I got away and came here.” Christa cried into his shoulder, clutching his shirt. Dean was speechless and shot Sam a bewildered look but after a moment he wrapped an arm around her.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ve got you now. We think the ghoul is here, inside somewhere.” Dean said quietly as he jerked his head to tell Sam to go inside. “Did he hurt you? We’ll take care of that sonuvabitch, Christa. Come on.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled as Dean ushered her inside the dark building.

“Sammy, let’s split up. Cover more ground that way.”

“Right,” Sam said, waiting for Christa to peel herself away from Dean and go with him. When she didn’t, he clenched his jaw and walked in the opposite direction. She must have seen him staring at her because she went with him after a moment. “Let’s check out the other areas,” he said quietly. Christa nodded and they left Dean to investigate the chapel.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean found nothing inside the chapel. He left and started searching another area, using his flashlight sparingly. After several minutes, he called out for Sam.

Nobody replied.

He tried again.

This time he heard someone shuffling towards him. He raised the light like a bat but Christa called out, “It’s me!”

Dean relaxed a tiny bit. “Where’s Sam?”

“I don’t know; we got separated. I retraced my steps thinking I’d find him but ran into you, instead.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered. As soon as the word left his mouth, Christa jumped and clung to his arm.

“Did you hear that?” She hissed. “Someone’s coming.” She grabbed his elbow in a tight grip and started moving down the hallway at a fast pace. Dean followed, shutting his light off. Christa found an unlocked door and pulled him into the tiniest broom closet he’d ever been in. It was smaller than the broom closets in high school. They were surrounded by metal shelves which left no space for movement. She had barreled into the closet with him right behind her, so now he was pressed against her back with nowhere to go. “Ssh, I think I hear it,” she whispered.

Dean consciously avoided putting his hands on her, holding them stiffly down by his sides and trying not to move. He thought he could hear his heartbeat it was so quiet in the closet. He heard nothing else, despite straining to listen for movement outside the closet. Suddenly, her hand grabbed his and pulled his arm around her, forcing him even more against her.

Christa shifted, her ass pressing into his crotch, and Dean bit back a groan as she held his hand against her chest. “I’m scared,” she whispered and shifted her hips again.

Then Dean did hear something. He heard what sounded like a muffled scream. And then another one. Christa’s grip on his hand grew tighter and he felt her grind against him. “Christa, you gotta stop moving around,” he grunted; his free hand went to her hip in the hopes of stilling her so he wouldn’t become fully erect.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “You know how I get when I’m scared. I get so horny,” she admitted.

This was news to Dean – all those hunts they’d been on together? She was ready and rearing to go after? During? His eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline and his mind spun.

Christa let out a soft whimper. "Touch me," she whispered. "I need you."

Dean wasted no time and slid the hand on her hip under her silky top, moving it slowly upwards. He felt her arch into him as he cupped her lace-covered breast. She let out a small moan and he leaned forward, nipping at the side of her neck. “Oh, God,” she whimpered.

Dean sighed and pushed his hips into hers. He moved her hair aside and gently bit her shoulder before he pulled his hand out of hers and pushed the thin strap of her top down. He was completely in the zone, thinking about all the things he’d do to her in this broom closet, when he heard another muffled scream. This time it sounded an awful lot like Sam.

He stopped kissing her and she moaned softly as she tried to urge him on. Dean swallowed thickly and slowly backed up against the door, silently reaching behind himself for the knob. His gut, now roiling and tumultuous, told him this wasn’t Christa – she was too relaxed and too into him. They hadn’t argued about a single thing, yet, and that felt wrong. Dean swung the door open and backed out into the hallway, flicking on his light. As he focused it on Christa, she morphed back into Officer Morton and Dean shuddered; he’d been turned on by a ghoul.

The ghoul raced at him and Dean dodged, just barely managing to escape its grasp. He ran down the hallway as he heard more muffled cries. They grew louder as he approached a staircase that descended further into pitch black darkness. At the thought of Sam in trouble, Dean hurled himself down the steps and narrowly escaped another grab at him. The ghoul shrieked in frustration and came barreling after him.

“Dean! Behind you!”

Dean barely had time to duck and roll out of the way. He heard his collared shirt rip as the ghoul’s hand grasped at the spot he had just been standing. He lifted his flash light and swung – and missed. Another cry, this one higher pitched and incoherent, met his ears and he stood up, brandishing his light like a bat again. This time, it connected with the ghoul’s head and he heard a sickeningly wet crunch. The ghoul dropped to the floor of the damp root cellar and Dean bashed its brains in. When he was finished and sure the thing was dead, he trained the light in the direction he’d heard Sam’s voice.

“That the only one?” He panted.

Sam nodded. He was tied to a chair and a trickle of blood stained his forehead from a small cut above his eye. Dean pulled out his knife and cut the ropes. “Dean, Christa’s in bad shape. It fed on her.”

“I know,” Dean said through a clenched jaw. He shuddered again at the thought of getting hard due to a ghoul. When he had freed his brother, he went over to Christa. She had a wound in her side that bled freely and her face was stained with mascara trails. He untied the gag and she sucked in a deep breath and immediately cried out in pain. All he could think to do was to gently shush her. She was in bad shape but he made quick work of the thick leather straps holding her down to the table. He couldn’t look at her – not after the closet incident – so he closed his eyes and hooked an arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders.

“Sammy, get the car,” he grunted as he moved toward the stairs.

Sam bolted and Dean took his time getting up the steps. Christa wasn’t light and she was only a couple inches shorter than him. He gritted his teeth and made his way up the last couple steps.

“Put me down, Dean,” Christa wheezed. “I can walk.”

“Like hell you can,” he said as he stumbled down the hallway back towards the entrance.

“Dean, please,” she sputtered and then winced.

Dean sighed – she rarely used his first name - and began to gently set her down on her feet. Christa clutched at his arm as her head swam, her vision fading at the edges. She was about to collapse when she felt his arms around her again, holding her up. “C’mon, princess, you said you could walk, now walk,” he demanded.

“Don’t… don’t fucking call me that,” she wheezed as they took painfully slow steps towards the door. Headlights swung past the windows in the front and Dean hoped it was Sam. He pushed the door open and heard the familiar engine rumble and car door slam shut.

Sam was on the other side of Christa before Dean could blink. She shifted her weight to the taller brother and Sam scooped her up with seemingly no effort. Her arms went around his neck and he cradled her to his chest as he stepped towards the car.

“Sammy,” was all she said before he was sliding her into the backseat. Dean followed, climbing into the driver’s seat and gunning it out of the cemetery. They were back at the motel within minutes and Dean jumped out of the car and opened the room so Sam could carry Christa inside.

“Towels, Dean,” Sam grunted as he held Christa next to their bed. Dean grabbed all the towels from the bathroom and spread some out on the bed before Sam put Christa down. As Sam gently pulled her top off, Dean went back out to the car and got their make-shift first aid kit. Sam stitched up Christa’s wounds as gently as he could while Christa clenched her teeth and tried not to scream. Dean stood on the other side of the bed and was a little surprised when she grabbed his hand and held it tightly while Sam finished placing bandages over the stitches. She let go of his hand without a word or glance in his direction until Dean slid a few pain killers into her hand.

“Thanks,” she sighed and swallowed them dry. Still feeling awkward about what had almost transpired in the broom closet, and the fact she was only in her bra and jeans, Dean just grunted and left the room. Sam and Christa heard the Impala’s engine roar to life moments later. “Sam?” Christa asked, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked, holding her hand in his, which were covered with her blood. He desperately tried not to stare at her breasts which were thinly concealed in a black lacy bra.

“This better not leave an ugly scar,” she smirked.

Sam chuckled lightly in response.

“Don’t leave me alone tonight, please,” she whispered.

“I won’t. I’m here, Chris.” He climbed onto the bed and lay next to her, careful of her new stitches. She pulled him closer and fell asleep in the crook of his arm.

Dean found them asleep when he returned. He studied how peaceful they both looked, cuddled up with one another. A moment of jealousy passed through him as he realized he wouldn’t experience what her body felt like against his ever again - based on their current relationship. He wondered if Sam had ever liked Christa as more than a close friend; he also wondered what Christa would do if she knew he was thinking these things. As he lay back on the other bed, Dean shut those thoughts out of his mind and let sleep take him. They would leave first thing in the morning.

* * *

“I’ll be fine, Sam,” Christa repeated herself as she shrugged on one of his button-ups. “Go to Chicago. I’ll catch a bus later today.” She was pressing her hand into her side as she limped toward her bag.

“Chris, you should really come with us. So we can make sure you’re okay,” Sam argued.

“I’ll just be dead weight, Sammy. No help to you. Go.”

“She’s got a point, Sam,” Dean said as he walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and pulled a tee-shirt on over his head.

Christa’s eyes flicked over to the older Winchester and she absently licked her lips as she studied his torso. Dean had gotten more muscles since she’d last seen him and he was very, very nice to look at. When she realized what her brain was doing, Christa slammed a barrier down on those thoughts and averted her gaze – but Dean had already seen her staring.

A witty quip started to roll off his tongue but he clamped down on it and just shot his brother a mirthless grin. “Let’s hit the road, man.”

Sam sighed and gently pulled Christa into an embrace. She would have normally reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and he would’ve normally picked her up a few inches off the ground but her wound limited her movements. “I promise I’ll be okay,” she whispered as Sam leaned down.

“Call me if you need anything,” Sam replied.

“Don’t worry about me, go find John.” Christa’s eyes went over to Dean again as she separated from Sam. “I know you’re worried about him.”

Dean held her gaze for a moment, knowing she was addressing him directly. Maybe he should have called her as soon as John went missing. He silently acknowledged her and then headed out the door with his bag over his shoulder. Christa was a solitary creature and she was bent on being on the road alone, so Dean let her go. Again.


End file.
